Hear Our Stories
by FoxfaceChase16
Summary: A prequel to my Death Carnival story. "Everyone has a story. We do too. Heartbreaking pasts, untold secrets, and dilemmas we experienced in the darkest of nights. These are our stories, and we will share them with you. Hear us."
1. Chapter 1

**About that 100-word thing, I decided it was way too short.**

**Let's hear it for Levina!**

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My name is Levina Scarlett.

Hear my story.

The luxurious life of District 1 citizens disgusted me. I was an outcast there, always feeling like I don't belong –that is, I don't actually want to belong. I didn't care much about my appearance, with my coarse brown hair chopped up unevenly. I wanted so much to leave, and now with the Capitol overthrown by the rebels that option is possible, but my parents had me on a leash they weren't too keen on letting go. As a six year old, I never did understood the life of a stereotypical District 1 girl, with their skyscraper-high stiletto heels and skirts so short they were only covering the parts required by law. Fortunately, unlike them, I didn't have a 'Shimmer' or 'Shine' as a name. I do have to cope with Scarlett though, but I'd take that over something as repulsive as 'Goldie'.

The training gym at the bottom of our gargantuan gold-and-white, oriental-themed mansion was like a world of fantasy to me, with all its various types of weapons that could injure and kill in a million different ways. It wasn't unusual for us to have these stuffs, for we came from a Career district and before the Hunger Games was demolished, parents go out of their way to train their kids. All for that small chance of victory, to be bathed in riches and fame; it was sick. Mine were no different. Even after the rebellion, they still insisted my siblings and I be trained. At the young age of 5, I was first introduced to the basics of martial arts. I was given knives and swords for my still-meaty toddler hands to hold on to. I should've been scared, confused perhaps, but strangely, I took pleasure in these thrilling experiences.

It was just after one of these training sessions with a professional trainer that I was captured. Sweaty, with my hair sticking to the sides of my cheek, but pumped up with adrenaline, I ran outside to the almost-always deserted field a few metres away from my house, wanting to get some fresh air. It was there and then that a big burly man with muscles the size of watermelons approached me.

"Candy?" he asked good-naturedly, waving a laserlemon lollipop in the air. "I'll give it to you if you come with me." I knew something was wrong, and instinctively took a wary step back.

"No, thanks," my voice wavered, sounding scared even to my own ears. "I, uhm, I gotta go." With that said, I turned and scrambled away, as fast as my short legs could carry me.

I was hopelessly outmatched. With two long strides and a swoop of his arm, I found myself hoisted up onto his shoulder, kicking and screaming as I tried to break free of his iron-grip.

"You got no choice honey," he cooed. "You're our first contestant!"

_Get ready for your impending death!"_

**My name is Levina Scarlett.**

**And this, is my story.**

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**What do you think of it? Let me know! A fav, a follow and/or a review is much appreciated guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoa, had a little too much fun and went a little overboard with this one. **

**Enjoy.**

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My name is Maver Crood.

Hear my story.

His opponent landed hard on the wooden floor of our hall with a grunt. Gregory Crood, his copper-brown hair sleek with sweat, gave a triumphant smile before placing his foot on top of the other boy's stomach, claiming his third victory in a row. His opponent, our neighbor and his long-time childhood friend Chad Hughsberg, slumped on the floor tiredly, groaning.

My six year old self watched my brother in awe as he swiftly removed his foot from Chad's stomach and helped him up to his feet. Wincing, Chad limped over to the side of the room and flopped onto the mattresses that had been carelessly placed there by one of the servants, grumbling to himself.

"That was awesome! Third win in a row Greg!" I cried out, clapping my hands. I had always looked up to my brother as a child. I respected him, admired the graceful way he carried himself, the way he always seemed to know exactly what needed to be said, and the way he can hold everyone captivated.

Greg had taken after our father. The same copper-brown hair –artfully tousled, as if he spent hours styling it so that it looked like he had just gotten out of bed-, the same steady grey eyes that crinkled slightly whenever he smiles, the same perfectly tan skin and the same chiseled face that reverberated with rugged masculinity. It was no wonder he had a line of girls fawning over him. I, in turn, had inherited much of my mother's looks and beauty. I had her icy blonde hair, long eyelashes that shade my sharp, metallic blue eyes and soft facial features. It's hard to believe sometimes, that we are siblings, and not strangers living in the same house.

"Wanna try fight me, little brother?" he challenged with mock seriousness. A 6 year old wouldn't be able to do much against a 14 year old –especially a 14 year old with skills like Greg- but I accepted the challenge anyway. I started punching, kicking and twisting my body, remembering the various lessons I had with Greg on self-defense techniques. I kicked him on the shin then, and Greg pretended to cry out in pain, falling over and rolling around on the ground, clutching his 'injured' shin.

"Mercy Mavy! Mercy!" he pleaded. I laughed as a reply, flopping down on his stomach. We wrestled for a while, before getting tangled in a mess of limbs, hair and clothes.

This was the kind of relationship we had. Despite the age difference, we understood each other.

"Wanna go for a run?" he asked, eyes twinkling with delight. I agreed enthusiastically. We went on runs together a lot. It would always be the same track, down the road, a left turn followed closely by two rights, and straight down to the bedraggled park that no one goes to anymore.

It was in that park that we met the woman with flaming-red hair. She was beautiful, but her beauty reminded me of pressed flowers. There was no warmth in it, just cold, dark malice. Upon seeing us, she plastered a bright smile on her face.

"Children! Thank goodness I found you," she cooed sweetly. "It appears I'm lost. Would you kindly direct me to this address please?" She held up a tiny piece of yellowed paper that had a few words scrawled on it. I saw Greg narrowing his eyes, poorly disguising his suspicion. He took a few steps towards her, holding out his hand to take the piece of paper.

"I'm guessing you aren't a District 1 citizen right?" Greg asked. Now that the rebels had overthrown Snow, we get visitors from other districts a lot. "Where you come from?"

The next few moments were a blur of my five senses. The woman never gave an answer. Instead, her right hand reached deep into her coat pocket and brandished a knife. Greg was a second too late. He gave an astonished gasp when he saw the knife, but before both of us knew it, the blade had burrowed deep into his chest, blood pouring out of the wound. He crumpled to the ground, eyes widened in fear and shock, mouth shaped like an 'O' though no screams came.

I was living a nightmare. Having taken care of my brother, she then approached her real target; me.

"Come with me, honey," she smiled sweetly, the blood wetting her hands as red as her hair. "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." Given that previous stab-Greg-with-my-hunting-knife scene, it was no surprise that I didn't believe her. I met my brother's dimming eyes. His mouth shaped one word over and over again, his last message for me.

Run.

And so I did. I heard the woman behind me exhale loudly, clearly annoyed. I called to mind the countless runs I had with Greg, balancing my intake and outtake of oxygen. I summoned every last bit of energy I had and ran, ran like I've never ran before. I had to escape, I had to, I had-.

A hand grabbed my shoulder and threw me to the ground, pinning me there. I struggled free, only to be rewarded with a kick in the ribs. I gave a yelp of pain, but refused to back down. I turned into a wild animal, clawing and scratching, screaming and kicking. The woman jerked her head up, looking around for any sign of another person. There wasn't anyone in sight, but someone's bound to come sooner or later, so she swiftly tied my hands and legs, not forgetting to shove a bitter-tasting rag into my mouth. She hauled me onto her shoulder then. I didn't stop screaming. My screams came out muffled, but I prayed fervently that someone would hear me.

No one did. When the realization dawned on me that it was hopeless, I stopped fighting, slumping tiredly on the woman's shoulder. And then came the tears. Waves upon waves of grief crashed upon me. Seeing my brother crumple to the ground, his eyes dimming as life slowly drained out of his body, him using his final breaths to warn me to run.

Sobs racked my tiny frame. I didn't know how long I cried, but I must've fallen asleep, for when I next opened my eyes, we were in an entirely different terrain. There were no houses, no roads, no buildings. Just flat, open ground, baked in the scorching sun.

"Welcome to your new home, Maver Crood," the woman purred. "Await your impending death!"

**My name is Maver Crood.**

**And this, is my story.**

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**As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Let's hear it for Alicia..**

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My name is Alicia Carstairs.

Hear my story.

I was a second too late; my father, his hands almost as big as my face, struck me on the cheek. I felt the sting that followed suit, the dull ache on my back as my body crashed onto the ground. Before I had time to recollect myself, he struck again, this time with more force. Blood trickled down my nose and into my mouth. I tasted the metallic taste of it and instantly felt faint, but I held my ground, and this time, when he struck again, I managed to dodge.

"YOU STUPID CHILD! YOU STUPID, USELESS BRAT!" he howled in rage.

It was a great wonder to me how one can change so drastically in just 2 years' time. Ever since mom died –'_Brain tumor_,' the doctors claimed_. 'There was nothing we could do'_- dad had resorted to alcohols. He turned violent, hitting his own children and throwing beer bottles around. Her death was a huge blow to him; it was as if a part of him died along with her, the part that was caring and kind, full of hugs and laughter.

Judging from his bloodshot eyes and slurred speech, he must have been knocking out on the happy juice again. I had just started practicing the one skill he taught me –knife throwing- when he barged into the Training Area, hurling insults at no one in particular. As a 6 year old, it was no surprise that I started backing away from him, cowering in fear behind the cupboard containing all our weapons.

"YOU CAN'T EVEN THROW STRAIGHT!" he rambled on.

I glanced at the dummy I used for target practice. Knives stuck out of its head and chest, one right in between its eyes. Sure those knives were much lighter and smaller than the ones my brothers used, therefore much easier to handle, but you gotta admit –for a 6 year old, that was pretty damn good.

Dad charged at me, yelling. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the incoming attack, when suddenly-

Someone tackled Dad to the ground and pinned him down, where he lay on the floor trashing wildly and frothing in the mouth. Will Carstairs, my 16 year old brother, gritted his teeth as he struggled with Dad. Will was tall and lean, with a frame resembling that of an athlete. He was well-built and quite strong, but his strength couldn't quite match Dad's, who was 3 times bulkier than him.

"Go Ally," he grunted. "Get out of the house. I'll deal with him and come find you later. It isn't safe for you here."

I got to my feet hurriedly and scrambled away. It felt as if there was a balloon in my chest, slowly expanding, bit by bit, making it hard for me to breathe, waiting for the right moment to pop. I had to get outside, had to get some fresh air.

I didn't stop running when the rays of sunlight greeted me. I had no destination in mind, no particular direction I wanted to follow. I just kept running, sending clouds of dust every time my feet collided with the ground. I must have tripped once or twice along the way, for when I stopped I realized my knee was scraped badly and was bleeding from several cuts that must've been caused by the jagged pieces of rocks that weren't rare in District 2. I hardly noticed the pain.

I slumped onto the ground, right underneath one of the rare trees found in this district, the leaves forming a canopy that shielded me from the scorching sun. Absentmindedly, I wiped the blood off my still bleeding nose.

"Hey kid," a man as big as my father greeted me. "Wazza matter with you?"

"Oh, uh," I stammered, wiping as much grime and blood off my face as possible. "Nothing."

The man clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Your nose, your knees are bleedin'. No parents, no guardians with you. I wouldn't call that nothing."

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. I blinked back the tears that had welled up in my eyes, threatening to fall out any second.

"Here, come with me," the man said kindly. "I'll help you, clean you up a little bit."

Not once did it cross my mind that the man's actions were suspicious, that he seemed a little too happy when I agreed. I was tired, so tired, that I welcomed any bit of help and kindness.

We hadn't gone very far when I heard the man mutter quietly, "Sorry kid." Confused, I turned around, only to be greeted by the sight of his fist as he struck me hard. Spots started dancing in my vision, and the next thing I knew, I blacked out.

**My name is Alicia Carstairs.**

**And this, is my story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry I didn't update last week **

**Really busy. Exams start next week. I won't be updating for 2-3 weeks.**

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My name is Lance Maelstorm.

Hear my story.

I bit my lips nervously, pacing to and fro in front of the classroom door. Peering through the miniscule window full of fingerprint stains, I see her, giggling with her friends. I wiped the sweat off my hands, fingering the drawing I had put so much effort into.

It had two stick figures whose genders would've been unknown, if not for my lame attempt of the girl's slightly longer hair and a polka-dotted skirt. The drawing had somehow looked better a few moments ago when I had just finished drawing it- now it looked downright ugly. Then again, my dad always said all that matters is that it comes from the heart.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally packed her things, shoving her books into her magenta backpack. She followed her two friends out the door, still giggling over a joke someone must've cracked. I raked my hands through my mess of a hair, silently cursing myself for not combing it earlier, and puffed out my chest.

They stopped in their tracks when they saw me. Not for the first or last time, the sight of her this close sends a kick of adrenaline through me.

Ariana Weriasker. She looked especially pretty today, her golden hair braided like how Katniss Everdeen used to braid hers. Her cheeks were especially rosy today, and her laced sapphire-coloured silk dress brought out her eyes –electric blue, bright and twinkling.

Ari raised her eyebrows, clearly indicating that I was blocking their path. By then I was jumpy with nerves, but I did manage to squeak out, "C-can I t-talk to you for a sec, Ari?" There was a long, awkward pause as I waited for her answer.

She sighed, exasperated. "Why can't you do it right now?"

"O-oh, but- uh- it's k-kinda personal…" I stammered out.

She turned to her two friends, who were both looking at her expectantly, probably waiting for her to turn me down. "Why don't you guys go on ahead? I'll catch up with you."

After exchanging goodbyes, Ari faced me, cocking her hips. "Well? What is it?" she snapped, causing me to cringe. "Don't waste my time, Maelstorm. Make it quick."

I licked my lips. "Oh -uh- I-I just wanted to, umm," I stuttered, words failing me. Ari had befuddled my brain, and the only thing I could think of at that moment was how good she smelled –vanilla, I presume. Ari casted an annoyed glance at her watch, before scowling at me again. As I couldn't think of what to say next, reflex took over and I shoved the drawing into her hands.

For a terrifying moment, she stood there, not saying a word, scrutinizing my drawing. After what seemed like an eternity, she laughed, penetrating the deafening silence. I forced a laugh too, hopefully convincing enough to hide the hurt I couldn't help feeling.

"What _is_ this?" she asked, incredulous.

I hesitated. "It's a drawing I made," I blurted out. "Of us."

That took Ari by surprise. She widened her eyes, but before she could say anything else, I squeaked out, "I like you!"

Her lips curled up in a corner, clearly amused. "Lance, that's really sweet of you," she purred, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

I broke into a grin. "Really?! So-"

"You didn't let me finish my sentence," she cut me off.

Suddenly, I don't feel so happy. I knew what was coming from the tone of her voice, but I fervently hoped it wasn't true.

"You're sweet and all, but sorry. I don't like you," she replied monotonously. Without another word, she turned around and walked away, her dress swaying from side to side.

So this is what it felt like to have your heart broken. I've seen characters in movies act it out before, but nothing could prepare me for this burning, stabbing pain in my chest, as if someone was poking it with a red-hot poker. Dazed, I stumbled outside, sitting on the front steps leading up to the school.

I don't know how long I sat there with my head in my palms, but had I not been so preoccupied, I would have heard the sound of footsteps behind me. Before I knew it, someone had stuffed a dirty rag smelling strongly of drugs into my mouth. I saw only a flash of red hair, a villainous smile, before the drug did its job and I passed out.

**My name is Lance Maelstorm.**

**And this, is my story.**

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**Credit to my friend Cyan, who helped me came up with Lance's story. Go to her account: ThatRandomTribute25 in fanfiction and fictionpress! **


	5. Chapter 5

**EXAMS OVER! YEAH! **

**Response to my reviewers:**

**Zore - Welcome! I hope you enjoyed my stories! Yes, that's the reason why Lance flirts around a lot. And thanks for that good luck :D**

**unknown - For normal six-year-olds living in our world, probably not. We'd just be sitting around eating dirt. But these chidren have been brought up in a different, twisted world. Each live in different districts where they were trained to have a specific mindset, a specific P.O.V of looking at things. The Careers would have been trained to be cruel, stonehearted, bloodthirsty killers, handling knives though still no less than a toddler. For the less fortunate districts, the only thing that matters to them is survival and their daily worry is how to put food on the table.**

**Clove - him coming from a gutter is much too cruel isn't it. And yes, more chapters are coming up. Like 3 more, hopefully by today.**

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My name is Amber Malik.

Hear my story.

_Click. Whirr. Click. _

My hand moved seamlessly, rotating the half-completed orb, clicking pieces of it in place, trying to piece it together. My fingers were so used to this task that there was no need for thought. This was a game we had played a thousand times. Within seconds, I had formed a perfectly round sphere using bits of junk metal I found lying about.

"Time!" I cried, slamming the sphere on the wooden table. It creaked in protest.

7-year-old Sam clicked his stopwatch excitedly. "20 seconds! New record!" In his excitement, he had jumped around so much that his glasses had slid off, now teetering dangerously at the end of his nose. He pushed it up with his index finger, examining my sphere closely as he did so.

"Smooth as an egg as usual," he muttered to himself. "Would've been better if those junk metal weren't so rusty though."

I waited patiently as he mumbled to himself, occasionally pushing his glasses up -it's time for him to tighten them again.

At the young age of 7, Sam had the intelligence similar to that of an adult District 3 citizen who had experience in the mechanical world. Quick-minded and with a huge memory bank, his intuitive guesses and creative –sometimes wild- ideas has helped us during the many projects we do together. As expected of someone from District 3.

But the similarities end there.

Samuel Oakley was unique, physically different than the rest of us. We had jet black hair, small almond-shaped eyes, and white, almost pale complexion due to our lack of sunshine from spending our days inside the factory. Most stopped growing at 5 foot 5, thin and sickly-looking from lack of exercise.

But Sam, Sam had big blue eyes. He wasn't as emaciated as the rest of us, probably due to the fact that his parents were richer than most of us. His shaggy hair was honey blonde -a very rare occurrence in District 3- reaching his shoulders. It was no wonder people looked at him funny whenever they passed him.

"Hullo? Earth to Amber!" Sam waved his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

"What? What is it?"

"I said, I'm giving you a 9 out of 10!" he huffed impatiently.

"Only a 9?!" I cried out, indignant. "20 seconds flat!"

Sam shrugged. "Metal chosen was rusty. It creaks."

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Yeah? So you can do better, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied suavely, without a moment's hesitation. "I'll make 30 of 'em. Give me 5 minutes."

I set the timer on my watch. "Three minutes; no excuses, no extension, 30 done." He nodded, smirking confidently. "I've been cooped up here for so long. I'll take a quick walk and return when 5 minutes is up. You better have 30 spheres ready by then."

Sam's intelligence came with a touch of arrogance. (Actually more than just a touch.) I've learned the hard way that he never stops boasting of his skills, and that it took tremendous amount of willpower not to smack his head during his long rants.

There was only one way out of the factory for non-workers like us. The back door right at the end of the corridor. It didn't take long for me to walk there, but I wasn't too fond of the much-too-narrow aisle that leads to the door; I'm claustrophobic. I lingered a few seconds before rushing forward into the alley and turned the handle of the door.

I saw the stick before it hit me. I was blessed with quick reflexes and instinctively ducked, the stick missing my head by an inch. I only caught a glimpse of the attacker before scrambling up to my feet and running back to the spare room where Sam was busy with his spheres. A bulky man with a scowl on his face. The fabric of his shirt strained against the sculpted muscles in his arms, the significant broadness in his chest making him look like a giant.

The narrow aisle had been built for the small stature of the District 3 citizens, not for someone with the size of my attacker. He struggled to even fit through the door, hitting his head against the ceiling which was much too low for him. He howled in rage before advancing on me awkwardly, body slightly tilted to the side, body bent from the waist up. That decreased his speed significantly, but he was still too fast. Running had never been my thing.

By then I was screaming Sam's name at the top of my lungs. He seemed to not have heard me; typical Sam, oblivious to his surroundings when working. 30 seconds till 3 minutes is up. I don't have that much time. My attacker had completed ¾ of his journey across the aisle, and I had only ran half the distance to the room.

The timer beeped just as I felt strong hands grasping my shoulders, and the stick connecting with the side of my head. From the looks of it, my attacker wasn't supposed to cause any injury that would leave me permanently damaged, and thus had lessened the amount of force he used. Nevertheless, I'm sure the impact caused nothing less than a concussion, and I would be feeling the after-effects of it for weeks. I managed to scream Sam's name one last time before the man hoisted me up onto his shoulders.

Though my vision blurred, I could still make out the door swinging open, a bewildered Sam stepping outside, his sharp intake of breath when he saw the giant of a man taking me away. I saw him look the man up and down, frightened, a quick assessment of the man's strength compared to his. He knew that he was definitely outsized, but that didn't stop him from calling out, "HEY! PUT HER DOWN YOU SCUMBAG!"

His mom would have washed his mouth with soap for a whole year.

"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HER?! PUT HER DOWN!"

He's trying to act all brave when his knees are shaking so badly and he looks like he'll pee in his pants anytime soon. I smiled at the thought.

My attacker casually turned around. "You'll see her soon enough. She'll be on TV."

Sam whimpered. "What are you gonna do to her?"

The man cackled like a hyena. "Trust me kid, you don't wanna know. But one thing's for sure. You might wanna say your goodbyes now. She's not coming back. Ever."

"You're not gonna kill her are you?!" came Sam's panicked voice. Their conversation sounded distant. I knew I was about to lose consciousness.

"Naw," the man replied casually. I heard Sam drew out a relieved sigh.

"Well, not me anyway. I'll let the others do the job."

At that happy note, I blacked out.

**My name is Amber Malik.**

**And this, is my story.**


	6. Chapter 6

My name is Blakers Foster.

Hear my story.

I sat in a corner, watching the twins bickered about who ate the last cookie.

Noise. I liked quiet better.

Sighing, I got up to my feet, silently counting the number of times I had to break up their fights. 318 times now.

"Does it matter who ate the last cookie? Navar did, and before you protest William, might I remind you that you sneaked a cookie into your room 2 days ago when Navar wasn't looking. Fair and square. Now stop bickering and let me enjoy the silence," I told them firmly, before turning around and sitting on one of the rickety chairs our family owns, reading my book.

Both Navar and William gaped at me, speechless.

"Geez, since when did he turn into such a grandmother?" William muttered sullenly.

Still, they stopped and went into their rooms, probably to start making new inventions that blows up.

I glanced at the clock. It was a little over 7.15 a.m. Sighing, I trotted into my room, shoved all my books inside my backpack, and hurriedly made my way to school. I hated school. I knew everything the teachers taught and found it a massive waste of time. Not to mention how rowdy it is.

Lunchtime was a perfect example to prove my point. The bell rang and every classroom's door swung open and a barrage of ravenous students burst out, eager to get their hands on food. I deliberately packed my books at a turtle's pace, waiting for all the commotion to die down before leaving the classroom. In truth, I wasn't particularly excited for lunch. Not when I knew what was about to come.

I was right.

Just as I stepped outside, Bryce Hamilton and his bunch of cronies cornered me, ugly sneers on their faces. Bryce had no brains inside that little head of his, and I don't believe he deserved the title of 'District 3 Citizen'. He has the intelligence level of those Capitol citizens back before the rebellion. He makes me sick. Though he was 4 years older than me, I could easily outsmart him. Unfortunately, when it comes to size and strength, I'm afraid he got the lion's share.

"I'm hungry kid," he growled.

"Then eat," I replied without hesitation. Bryce's face contorted in anger, and he clenched his hands into fists.

Bryce seemed to have thought it was his job to make life in school as hellish for me as possible. He tormented me, always trying to deprive me of my lunch so I had to go hungry for the rest of the day. But I had to stand up for myself, not through strength, but through intelligence.

Before he had time to raise his fist up and start punching me, I open my mouth and spoke. "Tommy heard Ranold talking to Tanilda that he heard Pamela say to Mildred that she's got a huge crush on you."

"Wait what?" Bryce scrunched up his face, trying to wrap his little brain around the words that I just said. There were too many names for him understand.

Taking advantage of his distraction, I kicked him in the shin, where I know it hurts most. He howled in pain, and his cronies, taken by surprise, could only stand and stare as I ran past them. I barged into one of the janitor's closet, where I had found a secret passageway leading to the school courtyard. I could barely fit into it; the tunnel was around 1.5 metres in diameter. It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic.

Once outside, I breathed a sigh of relief, listening to angry shoutings and scuffle of feet inside.

"YOU'RE DEAD WHEN I FIND YOU KID!"

Shrugging, I sat down and munched on the stale bread I called lunch.

"Not really a nice place to have lunch, isn't it?" came a voice that sounded like the person had trouble breathing.

I turned around and saw an old man wearing what looked like a lab coat. He had stringy hair that was graying, glasses that seemed too big for his face and a slightly crooked nose.

"I've never liked school myself. Waste of time. Learned everything myself way before the teachers taught us."

I smiled at that comment. Finally, someone who understands me.

The man smiled at me, showing yellowed teeth. "I'm Daniel. But I like to call myself Daedalus, after the great Greek inventor. I'm an inventor myself."

"Really?" I asked, not bothering to hide my interest. "What have you made so far?"

"Oh, little bits and pieces." He brightened up suddenly, "I can show you if you like."

I hesitated. School didn't end till 2 p.m. But then again, I wouldn't be missing much. They're still doing multiplications.

"Yeah okay. But I have to be home by 6. Or else my mom will freak."

The man grinned. "No problem kid. No problem."

**My name is Blakers Foster.**

**And this, is my story. **


	7. Chapter 7

My name is Peter Dwight.

Hear my story.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

My father, our newly-appointed Mayor, a tall, compact man with broad shoulders and a square jaw, waved away my concern impatiently. "It's fine. I've done it a million times before; nothing's ever happened to me."

My first swimming lesson. This is every District 4 kid's dream, the chance to finally explore the world deep under, to finally experience first-hand the wonders our parents told us about. No more splashing about near the shore.

We had a rule in District 4 –the sea was off-limits to anyone under 6 years old. This was to prevent mishaps such as the one just 2 years back when a 5 year old had drowned.

"Now remember Peter. Always, ALWAYS do warm-ups," dad barked. "If you experience a cram while you're 10 feet underwater, you're as good as dead!"

I gulped nervously, droplets of sweat already forming on my forehead, either from the heat of the scorching sun or simply from my jumpy nerves I can't tell. One thing's sure though –I found the prospect of dying undesirable.

"As you're still a beginner, an _amateur_ who has not the slightest idea the wonders –and the dangers- this vast body of water holds, we'll start with the basics," dad said.

I sniffed indignantly. There was absolutely no need for the emphasis on the word 'amateur'.

"Deep sea diving courses are only open for those 10 years or older. For now, I'll start briefing you on the various limb movements and techniques essential for every District 4 citizen to know." Dad took a deep breath, then turned his gaze to the sea, a content smile on his face. "Listen kid; be proud you're a citizen of this wonderful District. No one else but us can enjoy the wonders of the sea."

I straightened my back a little at that, puffing out my chess pompously. I would be lying to say I wasn't proud of coming from a Career district.

The next half hour was then spent warming up, stretching my taut muscles. My whole body was sore when we were done. Dad didn't show any sign of discomfort though. Then again, he's been doing this for years.

"Now then," dad clapped his hands together eagerly, "I think you're ready for a dip."

The words had barely came out of his mouth when a man wearing nothing but swimming trunks and a ragged fisherman's hat came jogging up to us, panting hard.

"Sir, we need your help right away," the young man puffed out.

Dad clucked his tongue, feathers clearly ruffled. "What seems to be the problem Kilua? This happens to be my son's first swimming lesson, and I will be furious if we are disturbed only because of a trivial matter."

The young man, Kilua, gulped nervously. "The boat that was meant to be used for the President's visit…" Kilua licked his lips twice, reluctant to continue.

Dad raised one of his eyebrows. 'Yes?" he prodded impatiently. "What's happened to it?"

"Well… it kinda… sank." Kilua whispered. "Some say it was the work of those rowdy boys, others claimed they saw a strange red-haired person near it moments before it happened."

A vein pulsed dangerously in dad's temple. "What did you say?!" he bellowed.

Kilua cowered in fright, unable to speak. "Lead me to it now! I want the names of every individual responsible for the sinking of the ship right now!" dad roared while cantering off, a terrified Kilua running to catch up, nodding his head vigorously so that he resembled one of those toys with bubble-heads and springy necks.

Dad suddenly stopped in his tracks, apparently just remembered that I was still there. "Peter, don't go anywhere. I'll be back soon enough. Do not attempt to swim on your own!"

The sound of their footsteps and dad's shouts grew distant, and soon, I was alone on the beach. Bummer. And I wanted to swim so badly.

"Hey kid! Come over here and help me a bit will ya?" a voice shouted from somewhere to my left, causing me to jump. I was quite sure there wasn't supposed to be anyone here. Dad had 'booked' the whole beach for my swimming lesson –one of the advantages of being the Mayor.

The voice belonged to a woman with fiery red hair dripping wet from her dip in the sea. She was pretty, I had to admit.

"Look kid, I lost a necklace somewhere here. Mind helping me search?"

Being rather shy, I only managed a half-nod and started walking tentatively towards her. "Umm.. whazzit look like?" I mumbled.

"It has a small pink seashell dangling from it. Quite sparkly," she smiled. "It might be further off in the sea."

"Oh, but I'm not allowed to swim yet. Well, technically I am, but I haven't the slightest idea how. My dad was supposed to teach me today, but unexpected situations happened."

For the second time, I thought how strange it was that the woman was there. Surely the coast guard would have told her the beach was booked. I decided to ask.

"Miss, how come you're in here?"

The woman frowned. "Pardon?"

"The beach. My father booked it. The coast guard wasn't supposed to let you in.'

Her eye twitched slightly, before she plastered a toothy grin and cried, "Well, that's because I had something very important to find!"

"The necklace?"

Still smiling, she shook her head, spraying me with droplets of water from her wet hair.

"I came to find you darling."

** My name is Peter Dwight.**

**And this, is my story.**


	8. Chapter 8

My name is Azura Angelique.

Hear my story.

"Great gods! You're a natural Zur!" my 16 year old sister, Thalia, whooped in delight.

It had only been 3 days since my birthday and 2 since my first swimming lesson, but here I am now, gliding in and out of the water with the skill and grace of a marine creature. Even my sister, who had taken nearly 2 weeks to master the required arm movements, was impressed.

"Oi! Where do you think you're going?! Come back here!" Thalia suddenly shouted angrily.

Startled by the sudden change in her mood, I quickly swam back to where she was. "What's up sis?"

Thalia gave an exasperated sigh. "You know as well as I do that 6 year olds aren't allowed beyond the 10m point. You'll get to 20 next year."

I was less than happy at that piece of information. Snorting indignantly, I opened my mouth to protest but never managed a word before Thalia glared at me. The glare was worthy of my mother's but it wasn't enough to stop me.

"But this is so unfair! How come you get to swim till the 500 m mark?!" I sounded bratty even to my own ears. I couldn't help it though. 10m just wouldn't do, not when the water's real shallow and there's not so much as a fish there.

"I'll have you know that I'm 10 years older than you and that my knowledge of swimming techniques is not as limited as yours!" she snapped. Seeing my hurt face though, her expression softened, and she said, not unkindly, "Look, I know it sucks. I've been there before. But it's for your own good. It doesn't only take skill but also knowledge of what lies under to survive these waters –something you do not quite have yet."

"If someone would just tell me-"

"It's not time for you to know yet," Thalia said, her tone firm. I opened my mouth to start complaining again, but she didn't give me a chance to speak. "Go on home now, our lesson's done for today. Dad's teaching you tomorrow."

Sulking, I watched her dive back into the water, a net she had woven herself tied to her belt, off to collect oysters for selling later on. She didn't even bother walking me back home, leaving me alone in here.

_Wait a minute._

_She left me alone._

_But no, after my little venture off the 10m mark, the coast guard's keeping a close eye on me. There's no way I'd be able to get past him. _

_Ah, darn it. I guess there's nothing to do but go home now. Novices aren't allowed to swim without a guardian watching over them anyway._

"Well you look like you need to lighten up," chuckled a woman wearing nothing but a none-too-modest swimsuit. From the looks of the water dripping from her straggly red hair, she had just come back from a swim. I raised my eyebrows at the stranger. I haven't seen her around before, and she would have stood out in the crowd, what with her startling crimson hair that's a very rare occurrence in my district. Come to think of it, I've never seen a redhead in District 4 before.

"Couldn't help but hear your little disagreement with your sister," she nodded her head to the direction Thalia had swum off to. "Just turned 6, huh?"

I scowled darkly, muttering a "Yeah."

I could've sworn I saw her smile turned into a sinister grin. It was gone before I knew it though. Must have been a figment of my overly-active imagination.

"So she reckons you haven't quite acquired the necessary knowledge for survival in the deep waters yes?" she asked, unabashed in the slightest.

I nodded, trying hard to disguise my suspicions.

"Well, that could be easily managed. I've got all the books and information you need," she beamed at me. "Of course, I don't have them with me right now. You'll have to come with me to my house just a few metres south."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I see no reason as to why information should be kept from the curious souls," she smiled kindly. "I was once like you, you know. Always thirsty for answers and knowledge. Sometimes I even had to resort to violence to get them." she laughed brightly.

I was quite alarmed by her last statement, but she showed no sign of noticing, nor was she in any way concern that she had spoken something she ought not to have in public, and to a random kid at that. Then again, I couldn't pretend I wasn't interested in what she's got in store for me.

After a moment's hesitation, I agreed to follow her to her house.

"Excellent," she beamed again, if possible even more brightly. She slid a cerulean see-through dress over her wet swimsuit, picked up her belongings and started walking towards the direction of her house, beckoning for me to follow.

I shrugged, and followed after her.

Needless to say, that was the single worst decisions I've ever made.

**My name is Azura Angelique.**

**And this, is my story. **


	9. Chapter 9

My name is Liana Chase.

Hear my story.

"Constant vigilance," Sol hissed, never taking his eyes off the target, Mr Peakes' fruit shop. "Always take note of your surroundings. Always, I repeat, _always, _be alert!

"Now listen, we've been spying on Mr Peakes for a while now, and I think we've gathered all the needed information to get us some food," he muttered under his breath to me. I grunted in response, impatient to get moving. Our hiding spot, a straggly, half-withered bush, a blind 15 metres away from the shop, hardly provided any means of comfort, seeing as to we had to crouch so low for the leaves to cover us up.

"Now what's the one thing we had taken note of these past few days of hiding and observing in an extremely uncomfortable bush?" Sol quizzed me.

"Routine," I answered automatically.

"Correct. And what have you gathered so far?"

"Fidelius Peaks sets up his stall at 8 every morning, ready to sell by 8.30 am. Customers start buying at 9. At 11.30 am he cleans his shop up a little, resumes selling when he's done, and that's around 11.45 am. Mr Peakes, being an 80 year old, needs to take afternoon naps to replenish himself. He does this at 2.30 pm until 3.30 pm, leaving his stall manned by a young man, 20 years of age named Justin Falke. Justin takes good care of the shop, but leaves for the restroom located at the very back of the shop at around 2.45 to relieve himself. He'll turn off the lights, flip the sign in front so it says 'Close', but doesn't lock the door. He takes about 8 minutes in the toilet, leaving the shop free for us to steal from," the words flowed out of my mouth like water gushing out from an open tap.

"Very good, little sister," Sol smirked. "The time now is 2.15 p.m, we have 30 minutes before we act."

15 minutes after, we saw the unmistakable lanky figure of Justin Flake approaching the stall. Mr Peaks gave a toothy grin and waved in greeting. He then lumbered off to the back of the shop, settled down on a chair and dozed off straight away. Justin took Mr Peaks original position and waited for customers to come.

"Not long now," Sol assured a restless me, my legs already sporting pins and needles. To make matters worse, the sun was blistering hot, determined to make us feel even less uncomfortable. Sweat trickled down my forehead, into my eyes, stinging it. I quickly wiped it off with the back of my hand.

We watched as Justin start squirming a little in his seat. As time passed, he started becoming even more squeamish and then, right at 2.45 pm, he stood up, and waddled off like a penguin into the bathroom.

"Now!" Sol hissed. There was no need for hesitation. We ran on silent feet into the shop, taking great care to prevent the door from creaking when we swung it open. "We've got 5 minutes! Take as much as you can and let's get out of here!"

We worked in complete silence, quiet as mice. Apples, pears, oranges went tumbling into our bags. We were careful not to take too much of each, so as to not raise suspicions and give us away. My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The job was exciting, exhilarating, enjoyable even. Sol had taught me well.

When 3 minutes were up, Sol gave the signal and we fled. The door swung close just as we heard the flush.

We had to stop after a while, for I was quite out of breath. Unlike Sol, Master of Thieveries and Troublemaker in Chief, I wasn't used to running long distances while carrying a heavy load. This was only my third heist. Sol was going to be 18 in 3 years' time, old enough to start working in factories like how my parents want him too, so he figured it was about time he started teaching me the ways of the heisting society. There was almost always not enough food to feed our family, and we had to endure going hungry a good few nights, pressing our knuckles into our stomachs in the hopes of driving away the growling monster desperate for food inside. Stealing food, though we knew was wrong, was our only way of survival.

The sun had sunk into the swirls of tainted fog and magenta clouds by the time we set foot into our little house. I only had time to shrug off my jacket before I was engulfed in a bear-hug and my vision was obscured by a large amount of bushy brown hair.

"Mom, you're choking me," my muffled protests fell on deaf ears as mom started screaming at Sol.

"Oh! I was so worried! What were you thinking Sol! She's only 6, you know that! What if you have been caught?! Bear in mind that the punishment for thievery is 50 whips! You ought to be ashamed of yourself Sol Nevarius Chase, bringing Lili along!" Mom shouted all these in one single breath. She might have continued, if Sol didn't interrupt her.

"Relax, mom! She's with me-"

"-all the more reason for me to be worried!" mom cried out.

"-I never get caught. And besides, Lili's a natural," Sol beamed, delighted. "Look at our haul!" He then proceeded to turn over the bags so that the contents tumbled out onto the dinner table. Sol whistled in appreciatively. "35 in total. Will last us 2 weeks, 3 if we're careful!"

Mom opened her mouth, only to close it a second later. _Like a fish_, I thought to myself. She seemed to be in a dilemma on whether she should berate her children for stealing or thank them for saving the whole family from starving. In the end, she threw up her hands in the air, defeated, and proceeded to prepare dinner.

"Dad'll be back home soon. Go clean yourself up till you squeak," she ordered while cutting one of the apples.

"Fresh fruits for dinner!" Sol cried out, full of glee. "Delicious!"

I smiled at my cheeky brother. He caught my eye, and jogged over, ruffling my hair, making it messier than it already was. "Nice work today. Best you've done so far." He winked before going inside his room.

Those were the golden days. Sol scheduled another heist 2 weeks after, told me to ready myself. He hadn't worked out who'll be the next target, or found a hiding spot yet, but I knew it was going to be exhilarating. Just like today.

But I never got to go with him. I never got to know who we were stealing from next. I never got to know if our hiding spot would be as uncomfortable as the last one. For a week after that, while playing alone outside, I was kidnapped by a man whose name I'll know later as Zeus.

I was chosen as tribute for an extreme version of the Hunger Games.

In short, I was chosen to die.

**My name is Liana Chase.**

**And this, is my story.**

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**I must say, I'm getting a ****_little_**** tired of Hear Our Stories. Devising 26 ways of kidnapping children is hard work! So I think I'll just devote my time to writing a Dravannah love story, and continuing with the sequel of Death Carnival. **

**_For iDTCB members who want their characters to have a past, please tell me immediately. I'm only gonna do 3 more, but I'm not sure when I'll be publishing._****_Probably after Dravannah. _**


	10. Chapter 10

**A short chappie to start off the love story. **

**Enjoy... :)**

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**A DRAVANNAH LOVE STORY**

The woman kept her stony silence as she threw me unceremoniously to the ground. I lay sprawled, grasping blindly for anything that might help me escape. The woman then took my blindfold off (none too gently, I might add) but instead of the blinding light I had been expecting, my eyes only met darkness. Panic found its way to my heart, it became hard not to start hyperventilating. Was I blind? Had the drug the woman gave me somehow damaged my eyesight?

I heard the door swung open. 21 pairs of eyes looked up instinctively, curious to see the new kid. We're expecting a boy this time.

We were right. Devious threw the new boy to the cold ground where he landed with a thud. He was too weak to stand, but that didn't stop him from trying to escape. I watched in fearful silence as he fought against Devious. She clucked her tongue in annoyance and purposely yanked some his hair while undoing the knot in the blindfold. She didn't bother faking an apology.

Tears stung my eyes as I forced myself to keep it together. Sobs racked my body.

No. I refuse to give in. I must be strong.

The sobs turned to fits of hiccups. It was hard to stop. I wanted my mom. I missed the smell of dew on the fields after the rain. I missed home.

Where was I? Where have they taken me?

He was crying. I noticed the rest of us had suddenly became interested in their nails, or fiddled with the hems of their dirty shirts. I pitied him, longed to reach out and comfort him. First days are always the hardest.

But crying was a sign of weakness, he ought not to continue much longer.

There was no light in the room; they must have closed the shutters. I couldn't see his face, but I knew from his sobs, his expression would be that of great sorrow.

I decided to wait till the break of dawn. I'll go to him then. Maybe.

It was hard for all of us to sleep that night. The sound of his sobs was like a grotesque lullaby, a mournful song that accompanied us as we drifted off to a restless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Dancing ribbons of light streamed in from the half-opened shutters. Dawn had finally arrived.

Some of the others were still asleep, judging from the sound of the soft snores. I was aware that the Careers were awake though. Their bodies had been trained so that an alarm would ring inside before the break of dawn. I noticed how they were all keeping their silence, watchful gazes still on the new boy. It was like all of us were collectively holding our breaths, waiting to see who would approach the boy first.

He still showed no signs of noticing our presence. He lay limp on the ground, one arm hugging his knee, the other acting as a pillow for his head. Shivering. And then suddenly, he stirred.

The cold bit every part of my exposed skin. I had used up all of my energy crying my heart out (and no, I am not the least bit ashamed) that I had deemed myself too tired to keep my eyelids open for a second longer and fell asleep.

It wasn't until morning that I woke and realized I wasn't alone.

The first thing I saw when my eyes cracked open was the slight gleam, the shine of other pairs of eyes. I was wide awake and alert in an instant. I didn't know to whom –or what- those pairs of eyes belonged to, but if they turned out to be foes, then I was hopelessly outnumbered 10 to 1.

Slowly, light streamed in and filled the room, enough so that I could make out the figures of the others. Unmistakably human. Children. Around the same age as I am. I found there were more of them than I thought first. There were around 20, some still asleep, the others watching me silently.

It went on like this, a staring contest, for what seemed like an eternity.

Then one of them moved towards me.

I sort of crawled gingerly towards him. I couldn't help it; my feet buckled, unable to support my weight after days of being cramped in an uncomfortable position. There wasn't much reason -or space- for us to move around, what with such a small and bare room. The lone window, when the shutters weren't down, showed not much scenery. Just a continuous expanse of yellow, dry sand.

He probably interpreted this as an incoming attack, for he scrambled back hurriedly, terror plain on his face. He held up his hand, right in front of his chest, ready to fend me off if needed.

I hurried to assure him I wasn't trying to hurt him. "I'm not gonna hurt you, it's okay."

At least, that was what I INTENDED to say. But my throat was parched from thirst and lack of use so that what came out was a series of croaks. The boy looks even more petrified now -apparently convinced I'm a monster.

Yikes. That was a bad start.

It was a girl that moved. I didn't know for sure, but judging from her long hair I'd say my guess was pretty accurate.

She crawled towards me.

Crawled.

For heaven's sake, why on earth is she crawling?!

Her sudden movement caught me by surprise and I instinctively moved back, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. She must've seen how she had frightened me, for she came to a halt.

And then she opened her mouth and spoke. I was expecting words, English, but no. What came out was raspy croaks and hacks.

I knew it. I was in a room full of mutts. And that –that _thing— _moving towards me is one of them.

"No! No! Leave me alone!" I shouted at her, making wild gesticulations with my arms to fend her off .

And then she spoke again. But this time, I could actually make out words. "Okay, okay! I didn't mean to scare you! Sorry! I'll leave now!"

She then retreated slowly back, eyes never leaving mine.

"W-wait," I called out feebly. She stopped and tilted her head slightly to the side, gesturing for me to go on. "A-are you… human?"

Deafening silence enveloped us, broken only by the ringing sound of her laughter. I can see all the others waking up now, bewildered faces staring at the laughing girl in front of me. It was clear that laughter hasn't been heard within the confines of these walls for a long time.

"Of course I'm a human, silly," she hiccupped, still giggling. She thrust out her hand, smiled and said, "I'm Savannah. Savannah White."

I stared at her outstretched hand, half-expecting it to turn green and scaly. She waited patiently, smiling at me all the way. Gingerly, I took her hand and shook it.

"I'm Drake. Drake Oblivion."

She beamed at me and heat rise up to my cheeks. Her small, almond-shaped eyes were ringed with dark circles from many sleepless nights, and her body was too thin, emaciated. Her cheeks were sunken, the curls in her hair limp, but when she smiled I could picture her in the radiance of her health and beauty, before her time spent here in captivity. I saw her with round, red cheeks, dark hair flowing vivaciously down her back. I couldn't help but think she was rather pretty.

I allowed myself a little smile, though I was too embarrassed to look at her squarely in the eye.

"Nice meeting you Drake."

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**So.. what do you think? Do you want me to continue with this? Another 3 more chapters perhaps? Let me know :) **


	12. Chapter 12

"Mealtime," Savannah hissed in my ear. I nodded absently, still half-asleep. Over time, my eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting of the room (it certainly doesn't help that everything –from the walls to the window panes- are painted black.). I no longer had to squint to see my hand in front of my face, and it's possible for me to distinguish each of the other kids not merely by the shape of their silhouette, but by their face features. It's like having cat eyes, I guess.

Meals were always a pain in the neck for me. There was never enough food to satisfy the needs of 22 growing children. Even if all of us got an equal share, we would still go to bed hungry.

That's why the strong started preying on the weak. The Careers were ruthless, taking more than they should, bullying us weaklings.

"Quit daydreaming Drake!" I scolded, already moving gingerly towards the door. Anytime now it would open, with Devious or Zeus standing in the doorway, bringing with them 22 pieces of bread. They wouldn't bother handing it one by one to each of us; they'd throw it the whole bunch at us. If we don't catch our share, then one of the Careers would take it and we'd have to go hungry till the next mealtime –which is not for hours later.

Right at that moment, the door swung open, revealing a scowling Zeus carrying a small red sack. He just needed a Christmas hat and a bushy white beard and he'd pull off the macho Santa look –except he wasn't here to give us presents. He then overturned the sack, threw the contents at our direction and slammed the door shut.

My ear barely registered the sound of the lock clacking in place, as I was fighting tooth and nail to get my hands on one of those stale breads. The place was total chaos. The Careers were shoving people away, kicking and punching if needed. I heard yelps and whimpers of pain from their victims.

My fingers grazed the smooth, slightly greasy surface of the bread and I quickly grabbed it, a little too hard. No matter, squished bread is better than none. I then retreated back towards the wall, to my –_our, _now that I'm sharing it with Drake- 'territory'. Drake wasn't there yet, but amidst the mass of bodies still fighting for bread, I stood no chance in locating him.

Once again, I didn't get any bread.

I must've broken the record for number-of-times-kid-in-captivity-fails-to-get-food. Not proud of it.

I just had rotten luck. I always do. Today, for instance, I _actually_ had my hands on one of the bread; I'm not lying. And then, one of those girl Careers from 2 approached me from behind and punched me hard. I knew she was after the bread, but I held on tight to it. '_No way am I gonna give this to you!' _I thought.

The girl decided to teach me a lesson for my stubbornness. Her elbow connected with the side of my head, leaving me seeing stars, and then shoved me none too gently (seriously what _does_ she do at home?! Kill full-grown bulls?!). Next thing I knew, my head struck the wall and I blacked out.

Savannah was trying to rouse me by slapping my cheeks gently. I sat bolt upright and immediately regretted doing so as my head throbbed with sharp pains. I groaned, feeling as if I had just played lab rat for one of those ancient torture device where nails are pushed into the head.

"What happened to you?" Savannah asked, eyebrows creased in worry.

"Umm… you know, got shoved I guess, kinda hazy, don't remember," I mumbled, flustered. I wasn't about to tell her I got beaten up by a girl.

"Yeah well, be careful next time," she sighed. "Here, saved you this." She threw half a bread into my lap. It took an enormous amount of willpower not to shove the whole thing into my mouth instantly. My stomach growled at the sight of it. I was ravenous.

"Are you sure?" I asked tentatively, horrified at myself for wishing for her to say 'Go ahead' or 'Eat up'.

She must have somehow read my thoughts or something, as she smiled, amused, and gestured for me to have the bread. "Go ahead, eat up."

I don't know what came over me, maybe happiness or relief, but I found myself flinging my arms around her. She gave a surprised 'Oh!' as I hugged her tight. Her face was beet red when I let go.

"Many thanks, kind lady," I said, while biting off one end of the bread.

Savannah could only nod.

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**Thank you Lya200 for always reviewing! Much appreciated! ^^**


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